


A Truth Universally Acknowledged

by PunsBulletsAndPointyThings



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, GFY, M/M, May The Fourth Be With You, No War AU, Qui-Gon Lives, Space version of British Regency culture, Waltzing, corny as hell I have no regrets, horrible butchery of a famous Pride and Prejudice quote to suit my own devices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 07:18:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6744784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunsBulletsAndPointyThings/pseuds/PunsBulletsAndPointyThings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years after Naboo, a too-easy mission, too many invasive questions from strangers, and a dance lead to realizations and changes for Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi and Master Qui-Gon Jinn.</p><p>or;</p><p>Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon waltz.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Truth Universally Acknowledged

**Author's Note:**

> I have had this idea dancing around my head for months. So glad I finally got it written.
> 
> Lots of thanks to The-Dragongirl, LaceFedora, and Leechbrain, for letting me babble on about this and helping me figure stuff out. Extra thanks to The-Dragongirl for her Regency Period expertise.

The mission to Yasinth had been a relatively easy one. The negotiations for a trade agreement between the Yasinthians and their neighbouring planet of Jacarn had gone smoothly, and had been concluded in what Obi-Wan tentatively considered record time.

And of course, once things were settled and finalized, it went without saying that there would be a ball. Obi-Wan had read the mission debrief on the transport over, three weeks previously, Qui-Gon peering over his shoulder at random intervals or requesting that the younger Knight read it aloud (so much like how things had been during his apprenticeship that there had been moments where Obi-Wan had reached absently for his braid, falling back onto an old habit and forgetting that the interwoven strands of hair were no longer a constant presence behind his left ear), and thus neither man had been surprised by the Queen’s announcement, nor the Jacarnin ambassador’s easy agreement. Both cultures held such gatherings as a thing of the highest cultural and societal importance, and nothing was considered truly settled unless the entire business had been concluded with a ball.

However…

“Oh, and Master Jedi-“

Obi-Wan resisted the urge to grind his teeth in irritation as yet another young woman sidled up to him, led by an older man he had been introduced to earlier that night, joining the steadily growing throng of well-dressed young people and their parents that surrounded him, as he stood against one of the massive, blue-green stone pillars that lined the Grand Ballroom of the Yasinth Royal Palace.

He had expected the ball, oh yes, but what he had not expected was to become the target for so many “eligible, well-born, young people”, and their mothers and fathers, all of whom seemed hell-bent on securing Obi-Wan as a son-in-law.

From the moment the Queen had risen and greeted the guests, taking the time to thank the visiting ambassador and dignitaries, as well as Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon themselves, Obi-Wan had felt eyes on him. He had been safe for the duration of the first dance, as both he and Qui-Gon had been informed ahead of time that the Queen and her eldest daughter and heir would have them as partners. It had been stiff and formal, but Obi-Wan had enjoyed himself despite it all. The Princess Janyil was a lovely woman, and they had chatted quietly as they danced, sharing a smile as the music ended and Obi-Wan pressed a courtly kiss to the back of her dark palm before releasing her hand. As she had been approached by another young woman Obi-Wan had seen speaking with the Princess earlier in the day, the Jedi Knight had slipped away, glancing around the crowded room in the hopes of catching sight of his mission partner.

The older Master was not to be found, and Obi-Wan had retreated to the pillar, snagging one of the slender, deep green glasses of what he assumed was alcohol from a passing servant.

It had taken all of five minutes for his peace to be fractured, as he had been cornered by a few of the courtiers he had met over the past two weeks, some dragging their children with them, others simply _suggesting_ , or _implying_ , lips spilling with excessive praise and flirtatious words. Obi-Wan had plastered his diplomat’s smile in place, kissed hands, and silently cursed Qui-Gon every time the older man swept through his field of vision, a new partner in his arms for this second dance, unhindered as he was, but the longer Obi-Wan stood, the more…company he accumulated.

“Master Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan startled out of his thoughts to find more than one pair of expectant eyes on him. He smiled apologetically at the young man who had spoken, long ago having given up on explaining that no, it was simply Knight Kenobi, he was not a Master yet, but thank you.

“Ah, my apologies, I must have been lost in thought. What was that?” he asked, meeting the man’s eyes serenely.

He flushed. “I was wondering if perhaps you had a partner waiting for you elsewhere, and that is why you do not dance.” His words were met by a few soft, shocked noises, and an older man leaned in, as if to chastise.

Obi-Wan smiled, waving away the concern. “It is fine, I take no offense. But, no, I have no partner.” He ignore the pang in his chest the words caused. “I chose not to dance in order to watch. I have never seen an event such as this before.”

The young man gazed up at him, the picture of coy charm. “Oh but surely, Master Kenobi, there is someone you would have as your partner?”

Despite himself, Obi-Wan nearly glanced out towards the dance floor, where he knew Qui-Gon was dancing with the ambassador from Jacarn, a man about Qui-Gon’s own age in appearance and with startlingly beautiful silver-white hair. Obi-Wan quickly took another sip of his drink, before replying, “No, I’m afraid there isn’t.”

He looked up as the current dance drew to a close, and a new song began, suddenly realizing his opportunity for escape. “But perhaps, I might have the pleasure of your company for this dance, Sir?”

The man’s eyes, a deep amber shade that reminded Obi-Wan of the brandy Bail had given him as a Knighting gift, went wide, and he nodded, taking Obi-Wan’s offered hand. “I would be delighted, Master Jedi.”

With a smile, he led him to the dance floor. Soon, he fell into the pattern; dance, offer, dance, accept an offer. If he danced, he did not have to talk, or awkwardly explain that no, he really was not looking to settle down and get married, but thank you, truly.

Once in a while, he would pass by Qui-Gon, and force himself not to stare, to tamp down the totally irrational flare of envy that blossomed in his chest at the sight of whichever partner Qui-Gon had at that moment, and release it into the Force.

As the two Jedi passed by once more, Qui-Gon caught Obi-Wan’s eyes, smiling warmly at him for a heartbeat, before he was gone, swept away by the beat of the music. Obi-Wan swallowed hard, forcing his eyes back to his partner and his mind back to the dance at hand, as he smiled at the young woman before him. Internally, he was wailing at the unfairness of it all, just for a moment. What he would give, to have the older Jedi as a partner, even just for one dance.

‘Master Yoda, you are a cruel, cruel being,’ he grumbled, as the song faded away, and he bowed to his partner, who giggled and curtsied, ‘You could have just as easily sent Master Windu and Master Galia on this mission. They would have enjoyed this opportunity to spend some time together.’

Licking his lips, Obi-Wan glanced around, eyes falling on a secluded corner. After a moment’s hesitation, he decided to risk it, and made his way towards the edge of the room, weaving skillfully through the crowds.

When he reached the wall, he leaned heavily against it, sighing and running a hand over his face. ‘Get it together Kenobi. You’re a Jedi Knight now, so stop pining already.’

Even with those thoughts, Obi-Wan’s eyes drifted back to the crowd of dancers, easily picking out Qui-Gon’s tall frame. Watching him dance made Obi-Wan’s chest ache with a far too familiar phantom pain, even as seeing him move with such a fluid grace eased the remaining shadows of old worry.

The injury he had taken on Naboo had been hard on the older Jedi, Obi-Wan knew. He himself had spent many hours in the Healers’ Hall, sitting next to Qui-Gon’s bacta-tank or bed, allowing himself to be reassured by their proximity that Qui-Gon still breathed, was still alive, still with him.

He had had nightmares about Naboo for months, horrible dreams where Obi-Wan had been too late, too slow in his fight with the Sith, and when he had finally dropped to the ground at his Master’s side, Qui-Gon had no longer breathed. Sometimes Obi-Wan had dreamed that he was back in the ward, waking at Qui-Gon’s side only to find the older man choking, blood staining his lips and the sheets covering his abdomen. Those nights had found him back at Qui-Gon’s side, holding the sleeping man’s hand or pillowing his head in his arms at the side of the bed. Eventually, the healers had stopped fighting him, and allowed him to stay without question.

Sometimes Anakin had joined him. It was during those quiet vigils that Obi-Wan had finally begun to connect with the boy who would eventually take his place. He told Anakin stories of his apprenticeship and misadventures with Qui-Gon, and in return, Anakin told him about his life on Tatooine, about his mother, his friends, his tinkering, the first time he had pod-raced. He was happy child, and scarily intelligent. The two had bonded over a shared love of mechanics, and after the first week, Anakin had started bringing along bits and pieces he had scrounged up with him to the wards, showing Obi-Wan his newest creations as they were made.

Eventually, Qui-Gon had woken up, and never before in his life had Obi-Wan been so relieved and grateful. The Jedi Master’s recovery had been a slow progress, it had happened.

After that, it felt as if the world had suddenly picked up speed. Obi-Wan barely remembered the details of his knighting ceremony, other than the ache in his chest and the pride in Qui-Gon’s eyes as Obi-Wan had offered him his padawan braid. And then his life had become a blur of moving into new quarters, celebrations with Bant, Garen, Reeft, and later, Bail, and then a cycle of missions, sleep, missions, and sleep. Seeing Qui-Gon had become a rarity in and of itself, busy as he was with Anakin’s training. Suddenly, in what seemed to be only the blink of an eye, three years had gone by, and Obi-Wan found his twenty-ninth birthday approaching on lightning-fast feet.

Obi-Wan would never admit it, but he missed Qui-Gon. It was an almost physical ache, settled deep in his bones. He missed their quiet mornings in the temple, missed sparring with him, missed his company and advice on missions. Qui-Gon’s smiles, his fond words, the way his eyes would light up that always meant trouble – be it starting an argument with the Council, or a debate with Obi-Wan over the most inconsequential thing.

But there was nothing to be done. Obi-Wan was Knight now, he could not stay attached to Qui-Gon’s side forever, no matter how much he might silently, secretly, wish it.

So the Council assigning this mission to him and Qui-Gon together had come as a surprise to Obi-Wan, all the more so when it had been revealed that Anakin would not be joining them. He had exams that kept him Temple-bound, Qui-Gon had explained, and there had been something in his eyes that Obi-Wan had not been able to put a name too…

“Excuse me, but Master Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, startling to find that at some point while he had been lost in his thoughts, a group of seven or eight women had found and surrounded him in his hiding place, all staring at him with similar expressions of eager delight and hope on their faces that sent a sharp spike of dread running through the young man.

He dragged a smile onto his lips. “Yes? What can I do for you all?”

One of the women, her dark hair pulled into a braid that had been twisted and pinned at the top of her head, fidgeted slightly with her pale blue gown, before saying, “It is the Slow Waltz next, Master Kenobi. Is there any way that, perhaps-“

Obi-Wan’s smile became fractionally tenser. The Slow Waltz was, from what he had read and heard over the course of the night, was the highlight of Yasinth balls. The final dance of the evening, it was significantly more intimate than others. While they had been dancing, Princess Janyil had said, after Obi-Wan had asked to know more about the dance’s significance, that there was an old legend that it had originated with the Queen of the Gods and Her Wife; that they had danced together as proof of their love, for all the other Gods to see. Over the years, the Slow Waltz had lost most of its religious significance, but it was still widely considered to be the ‘Lovers’ Dance.’ Only those with special permission from the Queen could participate, and those who had not yet reached their majority were not allowed to take part. It was considered scandalous, apparently. As an honoured and personal guest of the Queen, Obi-Wan had been fending off increasingly unsubtle hints that one or another lady would be the ideal dance partner, if only he would ask the Queen…

An image rose to the front of Obi-Wan’s mind, of strong arms and laughing, storm-cloud eyes; of moving together as dancers…as lovers. He shoved it away hastily. That was impossible.

Even so, as he drew his focus back to the women all watching him expectantly, Obi-Wan knew without a doubt, he did not want to dance them. Not for this. And besides, there was no way he would be granted permission, even he wanted to!

“Pardon me, might I interrupt?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes shot up, locking on the figure now standing before him. Qui-Gon stared back, a smile on his lips that sent a curl of heat running through Obi-Wan, to settle in the pit of his stomach.

He looked like something out of a dream. Both Jedi had been given clothes for the occasion, ones deemed more “suitable” for such an affair than their normal robes and tunics. In the end, the style of what Obi-Wan was given was remarkably similar to that of his normal tunics, but the under-tunic was a deep blue and trimmed with gold. Above that went a plain white tunic made material Obi-Wan could not name, followed by another layer of deep blue velvet, almost like a short cloak, with long sleeves and an open front, held in place by a wide leather sash, also dyed the same shade of deep blue as the tunics and pants. Obi-Wan had pulled his hair back, securing it in a single tail at the base of his skull.

Qui-Gon, though, Qui-Gon had been dressed in a similar style, but instead of blue, he wore clothes in a shade of deep, deep green. Copper and gold trimmed his flowing sleeves, and he wore dark brown leggings. His hair, copper brown and shot through with silver in places, had been expertly pulled away from his face, twisted up into a knot up on the back of his head. Braids, tight against his skull went up, one on either side of his head, and twisted around the bun. The close to constant dancing had caused a few strands of silky hair to work their way free, framing his face, and had left a light flush, high on Qui-Gon’s cheek-bones.

He was the most beautiful thing Obi-Wan had ever seen. The Knight swallowed hard, forcing his attention back to the situation at hand and away from the sudden thoughts of just what it would be like to take Qui-Gon out of those clothes.

Qui-Gon, who was still smiling at him as he said, voice low and rich and oh Gods, but Obi-Wan was so screwed, “If I might have the honour, Knight Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan stared, uncomprehendingly. “I…”

 _/Qui-Gon, this is the Slow Waltz!/_ , he hissed, through the pair-bond they had formed, before beginning this mission.

 _/The Queen has granted me, us, special permission. Will you dance with me?/_ , Qui-Gon asked again, silently, his face giving away nothing even as his slowly widening smile threatened to make Obi-Wan forget just why this was an Incredibly Bad Idea.

‘If I turn him down, I’ll have to stay here,’ he reasoned, thinking back to the first dance he had sat out, and resisted a shudder. Bad Idea or no, he did NOT want to deal with more overly personal comments and insinuations about just who would make a Wonderful Spouse. He stepped forwards, sucking in a breath. ‘You can do this, Kenobi. Just keep your shields up and don’t make an arse of yourself, and you’ll be fine.’

Carefully, he took the hand Qui-Gon still held out to him, his smile slipping into something more genuine despite himself.

“I would…love to, Master Jinn.”

As Qui-Gon led him towards the dance floor, Obi-Wan’s heart lurched, jumping up to settle somewhere in the vicinity of his throat.

 _/Qui-Gon, I don’t know the steps/_ , he sent, as they took their place on the floor, hands clasped together. Qui-Gon’s free hand settled on Obi-Wan’s lower back, a wide point of heat that felt like brand against his skin, even though the layers of fabric. Suddenly, Obi-Wan found himself pulled flush against his taller partner, his own free hand coming up to rest on Qui-Gon’s shoulder.

 _/That’s alright. Just follow me./_ Qui-Gon’s mental voice was warm, every word like a caress and oh, this was not the time for thoughts like that, really. Obi-Wan sucked in a shaky breath, and the music began, soft at first, but building steadily.

It was not, Obi-Wan quickly learned, an overly complicated dance, and with Qui-Gon leading, he found he did not have to focus as much as he might have. Clearly, Qui-Gon had sought out someone to teach him the steps ahead of time, but for what reason, Obi-Wan could not even begin to determine. In fact, pulled close against the older man as he was, Obi-Wan found it rather hard to focus on much of anything at all. He could feel the warmth radiating from Qui-Gon’s body, and the slow tempo of the music and Qui-Gon’s arm around his waist kept their bodies close. This close, he could smell the oils used in Qui-Gon’s hair, the light scent of sweat on his skin, and the ever present mix of tea and _something else_ that he had always associated with his former Master.

He should say something. He should ask why Qui-Gon was doing this. He needed to know, or else he would start to hope, and that hurt more than silence ever could. But Qui-Gon was still smiling at him, still staring at him like...like he was something precious, and it took Obi-Wan’s breath away.

_Step, step, turn. Step, step, turn._

Without thinking, Obi-Wan moved that much closer, dropping his head to rest it against Qui-Gon’s shoulder as the music swelled around them. He could feel the tension draining from his body, the rapid tempo his heart had chosen as they had begun to dance evening out to match the beat he could feel in Qui-Gon’s chest. In that moment, Obi-Wan felt more at peace than he had in a long, long time.

_Step, step, turn. Step, step, turn._

And then the music was coming to its end, the final notes fading away, and the spell was broken. They came to a slow halt, Qui-Gon’s arms falling away, and Obi-Wan tried not to mourn the lost warmth. Each taking a step back, they both bowed to one another. Then, before Obi-Wan could move further away, Qui-Gon caught his hands once more. Meeting Obi-Wan’s eyes and holding his gaze, Qui-Gon lifted the younger man’s hand to his lips, brushing a soft, lingering kiss across his knuckles.

Obi-Wan’s breath caught.

“Thank you for the dance, Knight Kenobi.” It must have been his imagination, but in that moment, Obi-Wan could have sworn the words slipped from Qui-Gon’s lips in an almost feline purr, sending shivers dancing across his skin.

Oh Force, he needed to meditate. And maybe take a shower. A long, cold shower.

“I, uh, it was my pleasure, Master Jinn,” he breathed. Qui-Gon’s smile widened for a moment, and then he tugged Obi-Wan back to his side, tucking Obi-Wan’s hand into the crook of his elbow and rested his own, larger hand on top of it, as it were the most natural thing in the world.

Bewildered, Obi-Wan looked up at him. “Qui-Gon, what-”

“We need to give our respects to the Queen and her family,” Qui-Gon said, voice calm, words casual.

“Yes, but-”

Obi-Wan trailed off as Qui-Gon, despite his attempts at protesting, began to weave through the milling crowds towards the raised dais that held the thrones of the Queen, Heir, and Consort. With Qui-Gon keeping a firm grip on his hand, Obi-Wan found himself helpless to anything but follow along, and pray that the heat he could feel at his cheeks would be taken as exertion from the dance. Or...something.

‘He’s just... observing cultural formalities. Breathe, Kenobi, this is nothing to read into. Just formalities, nothing more.’ Because how could it be anything else?

The two Jedi came to a stop before the dais, and bowed in sync. Qui-Gon spoke first, his voice warm with genuine pleasure. “Your Majesty.”

The Queen smiled down at them. “Master Jinn. Knight Kenobi. I do hope you have enjoyed our little celebration?”

“Yes, your Majesty. We are most honoured to have been your guests at such a magnificent gathering as this,” Qui-Gon replied, “We thank you for your most welcoming hospitality these past weeks.”

“Ah, but it is I who should be thanking you, Master Jedi. After all, it was due to the skills of you and your partner that this treaty was formed with such speed.”

Qui-Gon bowed once again, pulling Obi-Wan with him. “It is our duty to serve the Republic, your Majesty. No such thanks are need, though they are nevertheless appreciated.”

The Queen’s smile widened, and there was a spark of mischief in her eyes when she said, “I find I have another reason to offer you thanks, Masters Jedi. It has been a long time since I have seen such a beautiful Slow Waltz.”

Obi-Wan’s face went hot. Desperately, he called on the Force, reaching into its ever-present calm to steady himself, even as Qui-Gon glance at him, their eyes meeting. Qui-Gon’s was full of warmth and no small amount of humor, and Obi-Wan really, really needed the older man to stop looking at him like that because it was making concentrating extremely difficult and his heart do funny, flippy things in his chest.

“We thank you for you kind words,” Qui-Gon murmured, “If your Majesty has no complaints, we shall retire for the night.”

The Queen waved a hand, and Janyil, where she sat next to her mother, shot Obi-Wan a quick, knowing smile. “Of course, of course.”

They bowed once again, and Obi-Wan managed to find his voice long enough to murmur the proper words of thanks and departure, before Qui-Gon was moving again, guiding Obi-Wan out of the ballroom and down a large corridor.

“Qui-Gon, what-“ Obi-Wan began, as soon as they were safely out of earshot of anyone. His hand was still curled in the crook of Qui-Gon’s elbow, and the constant touch was… He shook his head. ‘Stop it. Court decorum. Nothing more. I don’t know why he’s keep it up, but stop trying to read into it.’ He tried again. “Qui-Gon-“

The older man stopped, forcing Obi-Wan to do the same. Looking up, he noticed the barest hint of a frown tugging on Qui-Gon’s lips and, to his surprise, nervousness shining in his eyes. Qui-Gon was quiet for a moment, as if searching for the right words.

“Please, Obi-Wan, just…come with me?” The words were soft, and more tentative than Obi-Wan could remember hearing from Qui-Gon’s lips. He licked his own, and nodded quickly. “Alright.”

They walked in silence after that. Obi-Wan found himself relaxing enough to revel in the warmth of Qui-Gon’s body next to his, enjoying a rare moment of uninterrupted peace in his presence.

Qui-Gon turned a corner, guiding their path out of the palace proper and into the wide-spread gardens surrounding it. The night was clear and the air was warm, and scented by flowers Obi-Wan could not name. Yasinth’s two moons shone brightly overhead, casting enough light for the two men to navigate without trouble.

Qui-Gon seemed to have a destination in mind, and so Obi-Wan followed, allowing himself to be led to a secluded spot, a fair ways away from the great windows of the palace that over-looked the gardens. Tucked away, behind a wide bed of small, twisted trees with thick, dark green foliage and slender silver branches, was a tiny structure, slightly raised up off the ground, with a domed roof held up by thin pillars. Most of the pearlescent stone was hidden under a thick layer of climbing vines that sported broad leaves and wide blossoms, so dark red that they were almost purple. Those, Obi-Wan recognized. Midnight roses, native to the planet and the pride of the Yasinthian people; they bloomed, as the name suggested, only at night.

“It’s so beautiful here,” Obi-Wan murmured, slipping his hand free from Qui-Gon’s arm and moving up the steps to stand under the domed roof, admiring the flowers around him. After a moment, he heard the other man follow.

“It is.” Qui-Gon’s voice was low, almost reverent, and when Obi-Wan turned around, the taller Jedi was staring at him, the same reverence in his eyes, and something more.

For a moment, Obi-Wan could only stare back, speechless.

Qui-Gon swallowed, looking away, and took a step back. “Obi-Wan…I…”

Traitorous hope was being to take root in Obi-Wan’s chest again, and for once he did not force it away. Slowly, he stepped forwards, removing the space that had grown between him and the other man, moving until they were only a hand-span away from one another. They stood there, staring at each other. Obi-Wan’s heart was in his throat.

“Qui-Gon…that dance…”

Qui-Gon shifted slightly, running a hand over his beard. In that moment, he looked nothing like the steady, sometimes stoic Jedi Master Obi-Wan was used to seeing outside of the quarters they had once shared, and it made his heart swell.

When Qui-Gon finally spoke, his words were soft, almost too quiet for Obi-Wan to hear. “I have missed you, Obi-Wan.” He glanced away, as if unable to meet the younger man’s eyes. “Three years have gone by so quickly, and yet,” he swallowed, pausing. Obi-Wan bit his lip, barely daring to breathe. “I find I am still not used to your absence.”

When Qui-Gon looked up, the blatant emotion in his gaze made Obi-Wan’s knees feel weak. “I would not have you uncomfortable, Obi-Wan, and if what I say is unwelcome, then I will let it be, but-“ he stepped in, closing the remaining space between them, and brought one hand, gently brushing the backs of his fingers over Obi-Wan’s cheek, so tenderly that Obi-Wan found himself blinking back tears, and silently cursing whatever alcohol the Yasinthians served.

“You are not that thirteen year old boy on Bandomeer anymore,” he murmured, “It took me time to realize that, after your knighting, and time to realize why your absence was paining me so. But now, now I would take the chance to know you, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight, as you are now, as the man you have become.”

Obi-Wan leaned into the light touch, eyes growing wide as he took in the words, but then Qui-Gon was taking a step back, his hand falling away.

“I understand, however, if this is not…” Qui-Gon hesitated, tongue darting out to wet his lips, “I would not risk our friendship, Obi-Wan, so-“

Obi-Wan blinked, and with a start, realized what the other man was saying. “I, no,” he let out a soft, shaky laugh, and closed the space between them once again, reaching up with shaking hands to cup Qui-Gon’s face.

The older man stared back at him, eyes wide, as if he could not quite believe what was happening. Obi-Wan found he knew the feeling all too well.

“Qui-Gon,” The name was sweet on his tongue, and for a moment he simply savored it, closing his eyes for the briefest moment. Then he laughed again, softly. “Do you have any idea how much I envied your partners tonight? How terrified I was, when you asked me to dance. I wanted to, so badly I wanted to, but I was scared that somehow you would learn of my feelings.” He brushed the pad of his thumb over Qui-Gon’s cheekbone. “I never dreamed that you might-“

“Feel the same?” Qui-Gon's voice was still soft, but there was a joy seeping into the words that had a smile spreading across Obi-Wan’s face before he realized what was happening. Qui-Gon’s arms slid around his waist, settling on his hips and pulling him closer, as Obi-Wan rose up on his toes, tilting his head to meet Qui-Gon’s lips.

It was a soft kiss, warm and chaste. They stayed like that for a time, letting their lips linger together for a few, long, heart-stopping moments. When they broke apart, Qui-Gon was smiling, bright as a star, and Obi-Wan could feel echoes of that joy, dancing around them in the Force. He smiled back.

“I’ve wanted to do that for years,” he admitted, shyly, sliding a hand from Qui-Gon’s face to loop around his neck. Qui-Gon laughed, a sound like liquid velvet to Obi-Wan’s ears.

“An old man like me?” he teased, “I’m honoured.”

Obi-Wan frowned, and tugged on a loose strand of hair hanging next to Qui-Gon’s right eye. “You’re not old.”

“I’m afraid I have to disagree.”

“Shut up.”

Grinning, Qui-Gon bent his head, catching Obi-Wan’s lips in another kiss, open-mouthed and with little of the previous chastity remaining. Obi-Wan let out a soft, pleased noise, kissing back eagerly, one hand tightening on the back of Qui-Gon’s neck.

There was a bench on the other side of the pavilion, and they moved as one, like a variation on the waltz from before, bodies pressed close together, Qui-Gon sitting down and pulling Obi-Wan with him. Obi-Wan went willingly, dropping into Qui-Gon’s lap. He tugged at the collar of his clothes, pulling them back so that he could press his mouth to the junction between Qui-Gon’s neck and shoulder, biting and sucking at the skin.

Qui-Gon groaned, his hands tightening on Obi-Wan’s hips, before he moved to tug Obi-Wan’s mouth back to his, his tongue teasing the seam of the younger man’s lips as they opened for him. Their beards rasped together, and Obi-Wan made a soft, needy noise that was lost against Qui-Gon’s mouth. Qui-Gon’s head was spinning, lost to the spiral of _warmth touch want_ that he could feel pouring off the man in his arms, even as it was racing through his veins like a fire.

Obi-Wan tugged on his tunics again, and made an aborted, frustrated noise against Qui-Gon’s lips. _/Want these off,/_ he sent, _/You look amazing. Would look better naked./_

“Fuck,” Qui-Gon gasped, pulling back. Obi-Wan stared, lust flaring brighter in his belly as he took in the sight that was Qui-Gon Jinn. Cheeks flushed, mouth red and swollen, pupils blow wide from arousal. Obi-Wan doubted he could have even dreamed up someone so beautiful.

Carefully, they both rose to their feet. For moment, the two men just stared at one another, before Qui-Gon help out his arm. Grinning, Obi-Wan took it, curling his hand into the crook of Qui-Gon’s elbow, before stretching up to kiss his cheek.

They made the trip back to the set of rooms the Queen had given them for the duration of their stay in silence, thankfully encountering no one in the halls.

The door to the main living space had barely closed behind them, before they were kissing again; slow, open-mouthed kisses that sent shivers running up and down Obi-Wan’s spine and made his toes curl in his boots.

“Come on,” he murmured, words slipping into a low moan as Qui-Gon moved from kissing his lips to his jaw, and from there to the side of his neck. “Bed. Now. Please, Qui.”

He shrieked in surprise, when the floor suddenly vanished from beneath his feet as Qui-Gon scooped him up into his arms. Obi-Wan wrapped his arms tightly around the other man’s neck, and scowled. “Warn me next time!”

Qui-Gon quirked an eyebrow, already striding towards one of the two bedchambers, an air of purpose in his steps. “Now where’s the fun in that?”

Obi-Wan grumbled at that, but he was smiling, and he took advantage of the new positioning to lean in and step about leaving another mark on the column of Qui-Gon’s neck, drawing a startled moan from the taller man as he did so, before finding himself dumped unceremoniously onto a large, lavish bed.

Qui-Gon joined him a moment later, tugging at the knots of Obi-Wan’s sash before pulling it away, letting the tunics fall open. Obi-Wan shrugged out of them, tossing the cloth away with a flick of his hand before leaning down to pull off his boots. When he straightened, he found Qui-Gon had divested himself his own tunics and boots, and was raising hands to his hair.

“Wait.” Obi-Wan reached out, shifting them both until Qui-Gon had his back to the headboard, and Obi-Wan had settled himself back in his lap, straddling Qui-Gon’s hips. Then he narrowed his eyes slightly in concentration.

There was a beat, and then the many pins holding Qui-Gon’s hair in place pulled themselves loose, floating away to land on the small table beside the bed and letting Qui-Gon’s hair fall free, tumbling down in waves of copper and bronze against his bare shoulders.

Obi-Wan leaned in, kissing him gently. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, pressing his forehead against Qui-Gon’s and closing his eyes, “I couldn’t breathe when I first saw you, dressed like this.”

“The feeling was mutual,” Qui-Gon groaned, sliding his hands down Obi-Wan’s chest and sides, to settle back on his hips, thumbs brushing against the waistband of his pants. “Blue suits you.”

Obi-Wan laughed, and then scooted back, freeing himself of the remaining articles of clothing with an irritated noise, Qui-Gon quickly following suit, before they returned to their previous position.

Qui-Gon’s eyes were dark with lust as he looked up at Obi-Wan, and the younger man found his gaze landing line of his partner’s jaw, the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed, the hollow of his throat, and the line of his collarbones. When he met Qui-Gon’s eyes again, there was an almost predatory smile curling his lips, and he leaned in, pressing a slow kiss full of tongue and teeth to the other man’s lips, before murmuring, “So. Where were we?”

Qui-Gon groaned, low in his throat, the noise almost a growl, and then suddenly Obi-Wan found their positions flipped, as he was pressed back against the pillows, Qui-Gon above him, one hand bracing himself above Obi-Wan’s shoulder, the other curled gently around him face. Obi-Wan smiled up at him, and Qui-Gon grinned back.

“I think we were right here.”

* * *

 

Obi-Wan woke to the first rays of sunlight, filtering in through the window on the other side of the room. Qui-Gon was curled around him, the larger man’s head on Obi-Wan’s stomach. He was still asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily, his face relaxed and peaceful. Obi-Wan smiled, running a hand affectionately through his dark hair. Under his hand, the man shifted, slowly opening his eyes to peer up at Obi-Wan, a soft smile sliding onto his lips after a moment of sleepy confusion.

_/Good morning./_

Obi-Wan laughed, leaning in for the kiss Qui-Gon sat up to offer. “Good morning.”

After a bit of shifting, and a few more kisses, Obi-Wan ended up curled up against Qui-Gon’s side, a strong arm wrapped around his waist. Qui-Gon was skimming through a datapad he had left on the bedside table, and Obi-Wan found he was more than happy to stay where he was and enjoy the comfortable silence and the warmth of skin pressed against skin.

It was early yet, and they were not expected by the Queen and her retinue for another three hours, at the very least, so Obi-Wan allowed himself to doze off again, his head on Qui-Gon’s shoulder, lulled by the quiet and warmth, and Qui-Gon’s thumb rubbing gentle circles against his hip.

When he woke up again, it was to the sound of Qui-Gon speaking softly, reading fragments out-loud to himself, or murmuring his questions or thoughts into the empty as he worked through whatever document currently held his attention. Obi-Wan could remember Qui-Gon doing the same thing many times when he was still a padawan, but something about watching him do so now left him feeling as if it was the most natural thing in the world, as stretched up to press a soft kiss to his cheek, and murmuring, “I love you.”

Qui-Gon paused, and Obi-Wan froze, waking fully in a heart-beat. For moment, neither of them spoke, and Obi-Wan was struck by the sudden, ice-cold realization that he might just have ruined this beautiful new thing that was starting between them.

But then Qui-Gon turned, meeting Obi-Wan’s gaze and holding it. They stared at one another for a moment, and then Qui-Gon’s eyes widened ever so slightly, realization and understand shining there, as if a missing piece, the key a long unanswered question, had been slipped into place. Obi-Wan watched Qui-Gon’s lips form a silent, “Oh,” and then the taller man was smiling, brighter than any sun. A warm, calloused hand came up, and cupped Obi-Wan’s face.

“I love you too.”

Obi-Wan did not need to Force to hear the truth ringing in those words, and he matched Qui-Gon’s smile with one of his own.

* * *

 

**[Epilogue]**

 

“Obi-Wan!”

Obi-Wan looked up from the Council report he was working on, as Anakin came barrelling into the room, barely even waiting for the door to open fully before he was squeezing passed it.

At twenty-three, a year after his knighting, Anakin’s hair had long since grown out of the short-cropped padawan cut, and hung in messy curls around his face. At that very moment, however, the young man had pulled it back into a short tail, from which a myriad of pieces had escaped, and were sticking up every which way. He was bare-foot, and dressed training togs, and looked a little wild-eyed.

Obi-Wan frowned, and put down his stylus. “Yes Anakin? What’s wrong?”

“I need you to teach me how to dance!”

He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

Anakin skidded to a halt next to the table where Obi-Wan sat, and folded him arms across his chest. “I need you to teach me how to dance. Please,” he added, after a short pause.

“I will teach if you wish, but why the sudden, burning interest?” Obi-Wan asked, peering up at the younger man.

Anakin sighed, and dropped into an empty chair. “Because apparently, weddings on Naboo have dancing! Like,” he waved his hands in the air, “Formal stuff, together. Waltzing. I don’t know how to waltz! I’m even sure if I know what a waltz is!”

Ah. So that was it.

Over the years since the Naboo Blockade, Anakin, Qui-Gon, and Obi-Wan had all stayed in contact with the young Queen turned Senator Amidala. Right from the start, there had been a close friendship between her and Anakin, and Qui-Gon had seen no reason to dissuade his newest apprentice, so long as he kept up with his training, and continued to display a strong understanding of how to healthily manage attachments, without allowing them to interfere with is duty as a Jedi. As such, it came as a surprise to few, least of all Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, when that friendship transformed into a deep love, somewhere along the line. They were even less surprised when, five months after his knighting, Anakin proposed, and Padme said yes.

“So Padme finally dropped that one on you, hm?” Obi-Wan grinned, and Anakin scowled at him.

“You knew?”

Obi-Wan snorted, “Of course I knew. It’s quite a common practice, especially among the Core Worlds.” He rose from his seat, Anakin following suit. “How did you know I would be able to teach you?”

“Qui-Gon pointed me in your direction, when I brought it up with him.”

“Did he now?” Obi-Wan’s eyebrows rose. _/What are you playing at this time, Love?/_ he asked, sending his words down the life-bond he shared with his mate.

He was met with rumbling laughter. _/Why must I always be up to something?/_

 _/Because you so often are/_ Obi-Wan teased, turning his attention back to his brother padawan.

Anakin was watching him, a curious expression on his face. “How did you learn, anyway? I’m guessing it’s not a Temple course, or something?”

Obi-Wan grinned, the memory floating across his mind. “Ah well, let me tell you, Anakin, if you ever end up going to a formal ball, you will lucky to already be a married man. Sometime is seems like everyone at those things is under the assumption that it is a universally acknowledged truth that if you are single, you must be in want of a spouse.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Dancing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8742565) by [starbird_jinnobi482](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starbird_jinnobi482/pseuds/starbird_jinnobi482)




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